A Hardy Dose of Stress
by StarFlight-Of-NightWings
Summary: Life has been beautiful for Frank and Callie, and they are living peacefully near the mountains and simply enjoying life. But when Frank gets a heart-wrenching phone call, he is thrown into a mystery he wasn't ready for. He and Joey are back in the game, but this time they're playing a game of lies, and things will go wrong before they will ever go right.
1. Chapter 1

Frank and Callie were only 18, and maybe that was the beauty of it. They still had the taste of youth in their mouths, but they were sure of themselves, sure of each other. They had been through so much, and they were finally free to run off together.

That's exactly what they did. It was Callie's 18th birthday party, and Frank had celebrated his own birthday a little while before. They talked and laughed with her parents and their friends, and at the end of the night they hopped in his car and sped away down the road. They said they just wanted a vacation, to celebrate their graduation and their adulthood.

But Frank had other things in mind.

It was sunrise, and they had been walking on the beach, when Frank proposed. It was sunset when they made it to Vegas, and he kissed his bride at the stroke of midnight. They slept for a day, and when they awoke they headed back down the road. They didn't know where they were going, or what they were doing. All they knew was that Frank's car had a full tank of gas and Callie's birthday money could pay for three fill-ups.

They never settled down, really. They slept in the car and used the laundromat to wash their clothes and did odd jobs wherever they could to pay for meals. But they were happy, and that's all either of them cared about.

It was Frank's twenty-second birthday when he got the call.

Callie always liked Colorado, so they settled near the mountains and bought their first home. Frank hooked up the phone line and Callie mapped out the best way to get to the library and they laughed at the silly way the birds would wait until the last moment to dodge cars, and the phone rang the moment he plugged in the cord. Frank picked it up, laughter still on his tongue and the taste of Callie still in his mouth.

"This is Frank Shaw-Hardy, how can I help you?"

"Frank? Frank, it's Joe." The voice on the other end was urgent, and the laughter died on Frank's lips.

"Joey? What's going on? How did you get this number? We didn't even know we had it yet."

"That's not important. Frank, I'm in trouble. I did some bad stuff and now someone's gonna kill me, and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know what to do. I need your help, Frank." Joe's voice was strained, and Frank's grip on the phone tightened.

"Slow down, Joey. Breathe. What bad stuff did you do? What kind of trouble are we talking about here?" Frank searched around for a pen and paper, or something to write down details about what was happening.

"I got sick, and I couldn't afford to pay off the debt to the hospital, and they were gonna take mom and dad's house, and I couldn't let them find out. So I found a guy who was willing to loan me enough to pay off the doctors and his payments were cheaper than the ones from the hospital, so I said yes, and I paid off the doctors. But the guy, he wasn't like the hospital. I missed one of his payments and one of his guys came, and they busted up my apartment and roughed me up, and told me if I missed another payment they'd kill me, and I got fired yesterday, and I missed my payment…" Joe's voice was getting more and more frantic. Frank's heart jumped into his throat.

"It's gonna be okay, Joey. How much do you owe the guy? It can't be that much, right? We'll get some money together, pay off what you owe plus extra, and smoothe this whole thing over." He had found a sharpie and notepad.

"Ten thousand dollars."

"You owe _how_ much?" Frank was stunned to say the least. "How sick did you _get,_ Joey?"

"It doesn't matter, Frank. He's gonna kill me if I don't get that money to 'im. He's gonna-"

Frank heard a yell, and then scuffling and what sounded like a baseball bat getting a solid hit, and then silence.

"Joey?"

Silence.

"Joey, answer me."

Silence.

"Joey Hardy, answer me right now."

"Who is this?" A gruff voice that most definitely didn't belong to his little brother answered his cries.

"Who are _you?"_ Frank retorted, "and what did you do to my little brother?"

"It don't matter who I am," the gruff voice said. "All that matters is that you bring twenty thousand dollars to Sal's Saloon in Colorado Springs by Thursday."

A quick glance at the calendar, and Frank realized that Thursday was only 3 days away.

"He only owes ten thousand," Frank said in an attempt to stall.

"He missed two payments. That's two times his debt. Bring the money, or your brother doesn't live to see Friday morning."

 _Click._

Frank slowly put the phone back on the hook and sunk to his knees.

"Frank, honey? Is everything okay?" Callie called out from the living room.

"Yeah, babydoll. Everything's fine. I just gotta go see Joey on Thursday." Frank's heart pounded in his chest, and his voice caught in his throat. "He got a little sick and needs some help."

"Is he gonna be okay? Do you want me to come with you?" Frank's heart jumped into his throat again at the thought of putting Callie in the same situation as Joe.

"No!" He paused to compose himself. "No, it's okay. You gotta get the house all decorated and stuff." He pulled himself to his feet, steadying himself with the kitchen countertop. "I'll be back before you know it." He walked shakily over to where Callie was sitting on the couch, looking at a city map, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She put her hands on his forearms and leaned her head back against his chest.

Something in him realized that if things didn't go exactly right in the negotiations with Joe's captors, Frank might never make it home. He was afraid, very afraid, and he prayed Callie didn't notice. She did. For once, he hated just how well she knew him.

"Are you _sure_ everything's okay?" She looked up at him, concern in her sparkling eyes. "You seem upset."

"I'm fine, babydoll." He leaned down to kiss the corner of her mouth. "Just a little tired."

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Callie rested her head against his chest again and closed her eyes.

"I love you, Frank."

"I love you too, Callie." He kissed the top of her head, and tried to ignore the feeling of crushing guilt in his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

Thursday morning, as he carried the weighted briefcase he had made specifically to trick the mobsters who had taken Joe, he decided to make a call to Callie. It seemed like the best thing to do, since he wasn't sure if he'd ever see her again.

"Hello, Callie Shaw-Hardy speaking." Frank smiled when he heard her voice, at the happy and bubbly tone, and the lack of any worry.

"Hey babydoll. It's Frank."

"Oh!" He chuckled as her tone changed to affectionate and excited. "Hi Frank! How's everything going? Is Joe okay?"

"He's doing okay. I'll probably be home tomorrow." He felt his heart slam against his ribcage, more fear than blood in his veins, and his grip on the briefcase tightened.

"I was gonna tell you this when you got back, but I'm so excited I might just burst."

Frank leaned against the wall of the phonebooth, a smile on his face, and he didn't bother to ask what the news was. Callie would just barrel on and tell him in a few moments.

"I'm pregnant!"

Callie spoke right on cue, and Frank's heart slammed into his ribs before it jumped into his throat. Suddenly, the happiness on his tongue soured into fear. Not of fatherhood, since the prospect of children with his beloved Callie was something he'd fantasized about since they'd gotten married, but rather the idea that he may never come home, and end up leaving Callie alone with a baby.

"That's amazing, babydoll." Frank tried to hide the fear in his heart, and the crushing weight in his chest. Suddenly, what he was getting ready to do was the most horrifying thing in the world.

"I know you're probably scared of being a dad, but you'll be great. I know it." Frank smiled a hollow, sad smile.

"Thanks, babydoll. You'll be a great mom. Listen, I gotta go take Joey to the doctor. I'll see you soon." Frank tightened his grip on the briefcase in his hand as he leaned his head back against the wall of the phone booth.

"Oh, right. Have fun, honey. I love you."

"I love you too, Callie." Frank slowly placed the phone back on the hook, steeled his nerves, and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

It's gonna be okay, he reminded himself.

He only wished he believed that.

As Frank walked slowly up to the counter of Sal's Saloon, he tried to look inconspicuous. It was only a moment before a burly man in a nice suit grabbed his shoulder.

"Are you Frank Hardy?" The same gruff voice from the phone met Frank's ears.

"Yeah," Frank muttered. "That's me."

"Come with me."

Frank turned and followed the suited man through the bar in the direction of a plain-looking door in the back labeled "Employees Only" and with no locks. The weight of the briefcase he held in one hand was painfully obvious to him, and he prayed it was the right amount of weight to throw off the mobsters long enough to get Joey out.

The burly man pushed open the door and Frank stepped into a low-lit room, with a desk and a pair of big men in suits. They eyed Frank warily, standing on either side of the desk, and a fairly lean man smoking a cigar was leaning back in a suede chair. Frank swallowed hard, listening as the door latched behind him.

"You showed," the lean man said after a long drag on the cigar. Smoke trailed past his lips with each word. "I'm assuming you know the gravity of the situation."

"Yeah. I do." Frank lifted the briefcase, opening it to show the man the bundles of cash inside. He kept his face blank, and prayed that his plan would work. He grabbed three bundles of cash - the three closest to the top left corner of the briefcase - and put them on the mobster's desk. He reached out, taking one of the stacks, and removed the rubber band to flick through it. The two men on either side of the desk did the same. The money was there, five hundred dollars in twenties in each bundle, and the mobster smiled slowly.

"Good work, my boy." He snapped his fingers twice, and the man on the left side of the desk turned around to open a side door. The man on the right gestured to Frank to hand over the briefcase, and he did as he was told after closing it back up. His heart hammered in his chest.

"Your brother should learn not to miss payments," the mobster said as one of the guards pushed Joey into Frank. "It could get him into a lot of trouble if his big brother happens to be poor one day."

Frank grabbed Joey's arm and dragged him out the door, leading him out to his waiting car. Joey was mumbling his thanks, disoriented, even as Frank shoved him into the back seat of his car.

"You have a lot of explaining to do," Frank said as he started the car.


	3. Chapter 3

"I know I do." Joey rubbed the back of his head. "I uh… Have you ever heard of necrotizing fasciitis?" Frank shook his head. "Well, it's a disease that kills your cells even while you're still alive, and it turns out it's expensive to treat, especially if they don't get it all in the first try."

Frank glanced over to see Joe rolling up the sleeve of his coat, and all that remained of his left forearm was a stump, cut off just below the elbow. He wretched, turning his gaze back to the road, and Joey continued.

"They had to do a lot of surgery, and eventually they just cut the arm off. I ended up losing my job at the power plant, and I couldn't afford rent anymore, so I moved back in with mom and dad. The debt started piling up, and the hospital sent a letter to say that mom and dad's house would be repossessed if I didn't pay up soon. I couldn't let mom and dad down like that. I was out one night, begging for money, and… The mob found me. He was such a nice guy, and he promised that he could loan me however much I needed, and at such low payments too… I didn't have a choice. I managed to get a job on a farm, and I was makin' payments and even got a little apartment… But the harvest season ended. I lost my job again, missed a payment… They came and busted up the place, put holes in my walls, cut up my furniture…. Broke my ribs…" Joey put his hand on his ribcage, and Frank's heart twinged in his chest. "I got on disability, and it got me through the winter, but the farm wasn't hirin' cripples anymore. I missed another payment. I didn't know where else to go, or what to do, or any of it. I called Chief Collig, and he told me a friend in Colorado told him that you an' Callie had a new house there, and gave me your number. I didn't know what else to do, Frank." He was quiet, listening to the rumble of the street under the car.

Frank finally broke the silence.

"You gotta get outta here, Joey. I got a safety deposit box back in Bayport. It should have some money. Go to Canada, or Mexico, or wherever you can. You gotta hide."

"Why? Didn't you pay them off? I should be safe, right?" Joe paused. "...Where _did_ you get the money, Frank?"

"I didn't," Frank muttered. "It was what was left of my savings and a cut-up phone book."

Joe was silent, processing the sheer danger he was in, before he slowly nodded. "Thanks, Frank. For everything. You can let me out here," he pointed to the police station, "and I'll call Chief Collig. I'll figure somethin' out. I hear Canada's got good welfare." Frank pulled over, and Joe reached over to open the car door. The air in the car had turned sour, be it from the truth that Frank might never see Joe again or from the reality that the whole event might have been avoided if Frank hadn't been a young fool and run for the hills the moment he could get away from his family.

He pushed the thoughts out of his head as he pulled over in front of the police station. "Good luck, Joey." He reached over to squeeze his brother's arm. "I'm sorry I never called."

"Thanks, Frank. Just do me a favor and call mom, okay? She misses you." Joe climbed out of the car and closed the door. He didn't look back as he walked into the police station.

Frank took a deep breath, turned to face the road ahead, and punched the steering wheel. Then he turned on the radio, wiped the tears from his cheeks, and shifted the car out of park.

He had a wife to go home to and a mother to call.


	4. Chapter 4

Frank didn't stop to sleep that night. He drove through the twilight and well into the night, his headlights the only thing illuminating the road. For a while, he left the radio on, but eventually even that grated on his nerves. The silence was somehow fitting. The stars twinkling in the sky in front of him, the shapes of the trees zooming past on either side… Somehow the serenity of the small hours of the morning wasn't meant to be disturbed by the radio.

Frank didn't want to think about exactly what must have gone on at home while he and Callie had run off, pretending that what they were doing was right and that their parents would have never understood their love. Frank didn't want to imagine the agony Joey must have faced, first as his flesh was eaten away from the inside and then as he tried desperately to cling to his home even as his bank account thinned.

But he couldn't stop the thoughts, the angry voice in the back of his head asking him why he abandoned his family, the images that tightened his grip on the steering wheel and brought tears spilling down his cheeks.

"Callie, think about it. We're 18. Our parents would never let us get married. They think we're too young to know what we want. This is our only choice!" Frank squeezed Callie's hands, even as her uncertainty showed in her eyes. "Wha'd'ya say, babydoll? Will you marry me?"

"You know I've always wanted to hear you say that, Frank Hardy." Callie looked up at him, the curve of her smile forged in her faith in his good will. "Yes, I will marry you."

They could have gone home. They should have gone home. But they were afraid, both of their parents' reaction and of the idea that they might never leave their little town, might never explore the world like they wanted to. So they didn't go home. They told themselves they would call their families when they had spare money, that they would visit when they could afford to take time off. Somehow, they always had an excuse. Laundry that needed to be done with their last roll of quarters, payments that needed to be made on a credit card, extra hours for a coworker.

Now, Joey was off to hide, seeing refuge in a foreign country, and Frank might never see his little brother again. And what about the rest of his family?

Orange and blue bled into the sky as dawn broke the horizon, and Frank pulled into town. He pulled off the highway and headed in the direction of his favorite bar. He normally wouldn't drink, but something about the whole situation left a hole in his gut that only a glass of good whiskey could fill.

As the car fell still, Frank stared at his steering wheel. Something in him was revolted at the idea of opening the door. The car was the last place he might ever see his little brother. Something in him wanted to preserve everything about that moment - even the air in the car.

But he forced himself to open the door, crack the seal and let those last words to his brother escape into the summer air.


	5. Chapter 5

It was well before the bar opened, but when he knocked on the window and the owner saw him standing outside, she walked over to unlock the door.

"C'mon in, honey. You look like you could use some company."

Missy was a sweet lady, in her fifties and with bleach-blonde hair and tattoos up and down her arms, including what she had explained to be a "well-intentioned stripper" on her right bicep and the Grim Reaper on her left one.

"What's on your mind, honey bee?" Missy called out over her shoulder as she grabbed a glass, scooping a couple ice cubes into the bottom, followed by a healthy pour of whiskey.

"Just some family troubles," Frank said as he sat heavily on a bar stool. "I guess my brother got pretty sick while I was gone. He's moving to Canada for the welfare, since he's a cripple now."

"Damn, that's pretty rough." Missy put the whiskey on a coaster, setting both down in front of Frank.

"Thanks, Missy." Frank picked up the glass and drank half off it.

"You're welcome, sugar. You want some mozzarella sticks? I'll heat 'em back up for ya."

"I'm alright. I gotta get home. Callie's pregnant and I don't want her to be alone for too long."

"Congrats, honey. You'll be a great dad." Missy patted his hand as he downed the rest of his whiskey.

"Thanks, Missy. What do I owe ya?" Frank pulled his wallet out of his jacket, but Missy waved dismissively.

"Not a penny, Frank. Consider it a baby-shower gift." Missy gave him a warm smile as she took his glass. "Tell Callie I said hi, and Aunt Missy would gladly watch the little tyke if she needs a break."

"You're the best." Frank got to his feet, giving Missy a warm smile before he waved goodbye and headed back to his car. His guilt still weighed heavily in his chest.


	6. Chapter 6

Frank drove silently back to his little home, and when he parked it was about two in the afternoon. Callie must have heard him drive up, since she was waiting outside by the time Frank had turned off the car. As he climbed out, Callie squealed and ran across the grass to throw herself into Frank's arms. Frank laughed as she locked her arms around his neck, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around her waist and pick her up, spinning her around twice before he finally put her back down.

"I missed you," she whispered, kissing the side of his face.

"I missed you too, honey bun." Frank nuzzled his nose into Callie's shoulder. Her warmth cascaded over him, the citrus-y smell of her shampoo and the minty scent of her body wash filling his lungs, and the anger and sadness in his chest faded. _That_ was what he lived for. The warmth of his beloved, the feeling of her heartbeat against his cheek and the sound of her breaths in his ears. All was well when Callie was in his arms.

"Let's go inside, Frank." Callie kissed Frank's shoulder before she pulled away.

"Would you mind making dinner while I called my mom?" Frank reached out to take Callie's hand. "Seeing Joey made me a little homesick."

"Of course, dear. You'd burn it anyway." Callie giggled as Frank rolled his eyes, and the pair walked back into the house even as Frank tried to keep the guilty thoughts at bay.

Frank dialed the Hardy family phone number slowly, cautiously, until he finally held the phone up to one ear with a shaking hand. The phone rang four times, with Frank's heart pounding harder at each unanswered ring, until he heard the click of someone picking up the receiver.

"Hardy household, Laura speaking." His mother sounded tired, her voice almost shaking.

"Hey mom. It's Frank." Frank's voice shook just as much.

"Frank?" Her voice was fearful, but hope pricked in the gentle shaking of her tone.

"I'm sorry it took so long to call. Time got away from me I guess."

"I would say so! It's been four years, with not even a postcard!" The fear in her voice was replaced with anger. "Did you hear about your poor brother?"

Guilt squeezed Frank's heart. "I just got home from meeting with Joey. He's going into witness protection. He uh… He fell in with some bad types." His voice trembled a bit, and the anger vanished from his mother's voice.

"Oh, my poor Joey…" She was silent for a few moments. "Oh, Frank, your father and I have missed you so much. We were so worried when you didn't come home. I guess your father trained you too well, since even he couldn't find you. Callie's mother was so worried, she told us when she found you two she'd strangle you both."

"I'm sorry, mom. We meant to call. But I guess it just… slipped our minds."

"Oh I know, dear. Time makes fools of us all. You two are young. I know you wanted to call." His mother paused for a moment, talking to someone else that he didn't quite hear. "Oh, your father's home. He'll want to talk to you."

Frank was silent as shuffling on the other side blocked out any speech, and his father's voice came over the line. "Frank?"

"Hey dad."

"You workin' now?"

"Yeah. I got a job with a local private investigator."

"You got a house?"

"Signed the lease yesterday."

"How's Callie?"

"We're married now, and she's pregnant."

There was more shuffling, some hushed arguing, and finally Frank's mother came back on the line. "I gotta go, Frankie. Your father and I are going to dinner tonight and I have to get ready."

"Okay. Well, it was nice talking to you, mom."

"It was nice talking to you too, honey. I love you."

"I love you too, mom." _Click._

Frank sighed, putting the receiver back on the cradle. It was barely a half second later before the phone rang again. He sighed, rubbing his face as tiredness washed over him, and picked up the phone.

"Shaw-Hardy household. Frank speaking."

"You're a clever boy, Frank Shaw-Hardy. That was a good trick, but it won't work again. Since your little brother disappeared, you're on the hook for his debt. Since you pulled that little stunt, we're upping what you owe to forty thousand dollars. Five percent of what you owe is due every other week. Forget to pay, and… Well, it would be a shame if something happened to pretty little Callie or your unborn baby."

Frank's heart leaped into his throat as the line went dead, and he slowly placed the receiver back in its cradle. He could hear Callie in the kitchen, humming as she cooked. His heart thundered against his ribs.

 _Five percent a week. Five percent of forty thousand is…_ He did the math quickly. _Two thousand dollars for my first payment?_

His paychecks were about $2,250 for every two weeks, but most of that went to bills. He had two bills due on Saturday, but they had about $3,000 left in their savings -

He'd cleaned out their savings to save Joey.

Frank's heart sank in his chest, and he clasped his hands in his lap.

 _What have I gotten myself into?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys. I took a bit of a hiatus to deal with my senior year of high school, and I'm working pretty much every day. I'm working on getting ALL of my unfinished fanfictions updated in the next week and getting a consistent writing schedule. Just so everyone knows, if the characters are a little inconstant (or a lot inconsistent) I have never read a single Hardy Boys book. This fic was a request, and I absolutely adored the idea and plot. If you like my style, feel free to check out some of my other fics. They'll all be updated soon, and should actually get finished for once lol. Anyway, enjoy the chapter. :)**

* * *

On Friday afternoon, after work, Frank took his paycheck to the bank to get it cashed. He was still trying to think of some way to find work, something he could do to keep himself and Callie afloat. He picked up paperwork for a loan, but he still didn't know exactly what he could do.

As he stepped out of the bank, frustration bubbling in his chest, he couldn't help but be angry. He'd left home to get away from all of the drama, all of the fear from vengeful criminals and the constant checking over his shoulder and around corners for fear he'd meet the business end of a gun.

But as he walked out of the bank with an envelope full of cash and that familiar fear flickering at the fringes of his mind, an urge to run away once more began to eat at his thoughts. An instinctive need to escape to a new place and start again. He paused, his hand on the door handle to his car. He could almost see it. An apartment in some city somewhere, a simple job in some skyscraper being boring and inconspicuous, no need to fear for his life…

His train of thought was shattered as Cassie's voice echoed in his ears.

 _We're in this together, Frank. I'll stick by you no matter what._

"Snap out of it," he muttered to himself as he opened the car door. "You got a family now. You can't just run off."

Frank refused to acknowledge the little voice in the back of his head that challenged his loyalty.

He pulled up outside an inconspicuous deli, the address written on the scrap of paper that had been placed under his windshield wiper, and paused to stare at his steering wheel. How many times had he been in that scenario? Cleaning up his little brother's messes? When they were kids he'd spent hours picking up Joey's toys, then taking credit for Joey's mistakes and handling the punishments their parents had placed on Frank that by all rights should have gone to his little brother. But he'd endured it all, because he loved Joey. He protected his baby brother, because that's what big brothers do. That's what big brothers are supposed to do.

Frank punched his steering wheel, cursing under his breath.

"Damn you, Joe Hardy," he hissed at the sour air, the echoes of the last words his little brother had spoken to him before running off to leave Frank to clean up the mess he'd made. "Damn you to _hell_ , you selfish son of a bitch."

But the anger faded. That white-hot hate for the little brother he loved so dearly faded away and left a deep, bone-crushing grief in its place.

"Damn you, Frank Shaw-Hardy," he whispered, his clenched fist resting against the steering wheel. "Damn you for turning your back on your only brother."

Frank leaned his forehead against his steering wheel for a moment, taking a deep, shaky breath, and grabbed the envelope sitting in his passenger seat. He slid the flap open, pulling two hundred-dollar bills and a fifty out of the stack, and closing the envelope. He reached over, pulled on the car door handle, and stepped out of the car.

He walked into the deli, where the owner looked up with an amicable smile.

"What can I do for ya?"

Frank swallowed uncomfortably, holding up the envelope without a word. The owner nodded, a knowing ache behind his eyes, and kept the smile plastered on his face.

"Ah, two pounds of rump roast. I'll be right back with that." He pointed to the door on Frank's left, mouthing 'through there' before he turned and walked through the doorway to the back freezer. Frank turned, opening the door, and stepped through.


	8. Chapter 8

The room was set up much like the one in the bar where he'd rescued Joey, with a desk and two men on either side. The chair was facing Frank, and the man seated in it glanced up at him.

"Mister Frank Shaw-Hardy?"

Frank nodded, and one of the men standing beside the desk stepped forward. Frank lifted the envelope and the man took it without a word. Frank felt his blood in his veins, whispering like little accusations of guilt in his ears as his heart hammered against his rib cage.

The bodyguard handed the envelope to the man behind the desk, and the man slid it open.

"Please understand that we have to count it after your little… Stunt."

Frank nodded, watching in silence as the man slid all two thousand of his hard-earned dollars out of the envelope, and counted each of the 20 bills inside. He nodded, glancing up at Frank as he pulled five from the stack.

"Since you've been kind enough to be on time with your payment, I've decided to count $500 of your trick payment toward your total." He held the money in his hand out to the bodyguard, who took it and gave it to Frank without a word. Frank opened his mouth to protest, but the man held up a hand. "I know your story. New to town, got a pregnant wife at home. A perfectly clean record, trapped in this mess by your brother." He lowered his hand. "I know what it's like to have to clean up your brother's mess. How do you think I ended up here?" He leaned back in his chair. "Go pay your bills. And talk to Serge at the counter. He can offer you a job."

"Thank you," Frank said softly.

"Don't worry about it." The man folded his hands on the desk. "Good luck with your baby."

Frank turned and stepped out of the room, walking up to the counter. The man behind it smiled, handing two pounds of roast over the counter.

"There ya go, bud. Have a nice day." He slid a paper across the counter, waving off Frank's offer to pay. He tapped the paper before walking away into the back of the shop as Frank picked up both the meat and the note.

'I'm under their thumb too. Feed your family. If you need work, give me a call. I'm looking for a new meat slicer. -Serge'

Frank stepped out to his car, thanking his lucky stars that he'd hit such a break, and stepped into his car. The warm air inside still reeked of his own traitorous thoughts, and he quickly rolled down his window as he drove toward his home.

He let the wind carry his treachery away into the sky to join his brother's last goodbye.


	9. Chapter 9

"Frank?"

He looked up as Callie absently called his name. She'd gotten the mail, and was looking down at an envelope in her hand.

"Yeah?" Frank got up from where he was sitting, reading the newspaper.

"Did you forget to pay the electric bill?" She glanced up from the envelope. "This says 'late payment' on it."

Frank felt his heart racing. He hadn't been able to afford the electric bill.

"You know, I think I did," he lied. He'd had to do a lot of lying in the last two weeks. Lying about where he was going, what he was doing, who he was with. He'd started picking up shifts for Missy, for the butcher, for anyone who had them. But it wasn't enough.

"Hm." She shrugged, putting the bill on the table by the door. "Take that with you when you go to pay it."

"Of course, doll." Frank smiled up at Callie, and she smiled back. But he could see suspicion behind those eyes, just barely beginning to spark.

"Frank, baby, we promised each other not to keep secrets, didn't we?"

 _"I swear to share my everything with you, Callie. My secrets are your secrets, and I promise to be truly honest with you."_

Their wedding vows rang in his ears, and guilt settled a little heavier on his shoulders.

"We did," he said calmly, turning his gaze back to the paper. "Why do you ask?"

"Missy called earlier," Callie said absently, with the same measured tone as Frank. His heart slammed against his ribs.

"What did she call about?" Frank didn't lift his gaze from the paper.

"She wanted to know if you could pick up another shift this week." Callie sat on the couch, looking over at Frank. "I didn't know you were working for Missy."

"She just needs some help around the bar occasionally, so I volunteered." He straightened the paper nervously. "It just slipped my mind."

"Hm." Callie stood up. "What else has slipped your mind recently?"

"What are you saying, Callie?" Frank looked up at Callie. The suspicious spark in her eyes had grown to glowing coals in her eyes.

"I hate it when you lie to me, Frank. You're not good at it, at least not with me. So tell me the truth. Where have you been going for the last two weeks?" Callie's tone was level, but Frank could hear the hurt behind it. The thoughts sparked in the back of his head again, images of escape to a mindless office job in San Francisco.

"I've been picking up extra work." Frank's tone was just as level. "What's wrong with that?"

"I was there when we figured out the budget, Frank. We should have plenty of money." She put her hands on her hips. "So where is the money going?"

"Don't worry about it, Callie. It doesn't matter." He folded the newspaper, pulling himself to his feet.

"It does matter." The coals in her eyes had ignited, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you cheating on me?"

"What?" Frank turned his gaze on Callie. He could see the hurt in her eyes, in the way she closed her body off to him.

He could see it. A calm office, working as an accountant for some law firm. A little apartment, a new name, an easy life.

"Are you cheating on me?" Callie stared at him, waiting for his answer.

"Of course not! What could possibly-"

"Don't give me that!" Callie shouted, her arms sliding away from her chest and her fists clenching at her sides. "You leave early in the morning, stay out late, you can't give me any reason for why you'd be picking up extra shifts…" her voice faltered, and tears welled in her eyes. "I want to trust you, Frank, but you keep giving me reasons not to."

"Callie…" Frank hesitated. He didn't want her to get involved in all this. All he wanted was to keep her safe.

"Tell me. Tell me the truth." Callie looked up at him, wiping her cheeks.

Frank felt defeat crushing in on him, and he lowered his gaze. He could feel that oh-so-familiar guilt pressing on his shoulders, squeezing his heart.

"Joey got sick. He said it was called 'necrotizing faciatis' and it rotted his flesh while he was still alive. It was real expensive, and he lost an arm to it. He couldn't pay the doctors, so he went to the mob. He owed a whole lot of money, and he called to ask for help. I went and saved him, but he had to run. I don't know where he is now, but he was supposed to go to Canada." He felt his legs buckle, and he sat heavily in the chair behind him. Grief pressed in on him again, reminders of his brother's last words to him ringing in his ears. He put his head in his hands.

"The mob is making me pay off Joey's debt. I have to pay two thousand dollars on every paycheck, so I've been picking up extra work to make ends meet." Tears welled in his eyes, but he shoved them back.

"Frank, why didn't you tell me?" Callie's voice was soft. Frank could still hear the hurt in it, and that was what broke him. Tears spilled down his face as his shoulders began to shake, and he spoke in a shaking voice.

"I didn't want you to worry about any of this," he whispered. "I just wanted to protect you."

"I can handle this kind of thing," she murmured, kneeling in front of him and gently rubbing his upper arm.

"I brought you here to get away from all that," Frank said suddenly. He lifted his head, looking directly into Callie's eyes. He could see sadness in them, tainted with fear. He hated that look. He hated that he'd put that look in her eyes.

"I brought you here because I hated putting you in danger. Our lives in Bayport were so dangerous, and every day I was afraid I'd lose you." Tears blurred his vision as his chest tightened. "I didn't want you to go through that again."

Callie reached out, cradling Frank's face in her hands. The suspicion in her eyes had faded, leaving only love and sympathy as she looked deep into Frank's eyes. Her warm palms against his face eased the pain in Frank's chest, and he leaned into her touch.

"I love you, Frank. I love you so much, and I don't care how much danger I'm in as long as I have you." She rested her forehead against his. "We can get through this together. You don't have to do any of this alone. In sickness and in health, for as long as I shall live, I swore to be by your side."

"I love you," Frank whispered, his hands falling away from his hair to hug Callie tight. His head came to rest against her chest, and she stroked his hair softly.

"I love you too, Frank. Always and forever."


End file.
